Please Don't Fight
by chalantness
Summary: She misses Tyler. Maybe she was still furious with him, especially since he just picked up and left her—them, but it hurts to think of him leaving her so that must count for something.


**Fandom.** Tyler/Caroline

Disclaimer: Vampire Diaries © L.J. Smith

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><p><strong>Please Don't Fight<strong>

By sakuracherish814

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><p>She has to stop crying over Matt.<p>

After all this time, the same freaking boy is the source of all her problems. Well, _most_ of them. She feels pathetic because of him. She _died_ and became a _vampire_, kicked ass, and helped outsmart Katherine; and yet, no matter how many milestones she crosses or achievements she makes, she has shed her most tears over a dumb boy. Like she said: pathetic.

Her mom isn't due home until the morning so she figures now is as good a time as ever to indulge in a little (or a lot of) alcohol.

She pours herself a glass and nearly downs it all in one gulp. Vaguely she remembers Stefan telling her in her first days of being a vampire that alcohol curbs the cravings and you are able to tolerate a _lot_ more before being remotely drunk. This time around, she's sure as hell glad to be an undead.

She pours some more and it brings her back to that night that seemed so long ago.

_That was when Tyler was here._

Her grip tightens around her glass. She tips her head back, letting the liquid slide down and tingle her throat.

Maybe she shouldn't be comparing the two, but she can't help it.

Only a few nights ago had Matt claimed left and right that he was completely in love with her, but when he learns her secret, he becomes furious. When it had been Tyler, someone whom she shared what could be loosely called a _friendship_ at the time, he accepted her almost immediately. Sure, Matt was human and Tyler was a werewolf, but their kinds were sworn enemies and he treated her better.

Sighing, she pours herself her third glass and swishes it around gently as she contemplates.

She misses Tyler. Maybe she was still furious with him, especially since he just picked up and left her—_them_, but it hurts to think of him leaving her so that must count for something.

She remembers when she had worked for Katherine and confessed to Elena. She remembers her words, about how Elena tried putting herself in Caroline's shoes to try and understand why one of her best friends could do such a thing.

She tries this with Tyler.

The boy had _no one_. Still under the impression that Mason had disappeared, the one person who could have helped him had just picked up and left.

And then there was the fact she had implied what she knew at the masquerade party and then avoided him like the plague when he must've been desperate. Thinking about that now, could she have been any less considerate? Maybe she was doing it because of Damon and Stefan, but they've been doing it forever; they could take care of themselves, and so could she. But Tyler _needed_ her.

Then, imagining about how furious he must've felt thinking that the person he had trusted with his most vulnerable state had been lying and hiding things right to his face, she downs another glass.

Well, damn.

All this time, she had been giving the wrong guy the benefit of the doubt. In that instant, she couldn't have missed Tyler more.

She had to do something.

She'd go to Mrs. Lockwood and ask anything she knew and where Tyler might've gone. She'd go to Stefan and ask what he knew, maybe even Damon. She'd go to Bonnie so maybe she could track him with her magic. Hell, if it resorted to that, she'd even track down Katherine and try to make a deal—if the girl could find Mason, how much harder could finding Tyler be?

Any and all of those plans were worth a shot if it meant that she had hopes of getting to him.

She stashes the bourbon back and sticks her glass in the dishwasher. She grabs her keys off of the counter and nearly slams the front door shut, locking it before spinning on her heels.

Her eyes look up and out in front of her for a brief second into the dark night and she finds herself pausing and then freezing altogether. A breeze passes through, carrying leaves and blowing her hair as it went, but her eyes are fixed in front of her on the park across the street. The moon is nearly full and eerie, sitting just on top of the horizon with a silhouette against it.

She swears her undead heart skips a beat.

"Tyler," she breathes, because even in the night, even from feet away, she just _knows_.

Her feet are already taking her forward, and the closer she gets the more of his face she can make out.

_God_, has he gotten even more perfect? She doesn't know how this is possible. It's probably her just imagining things or because she just missed him that much but she can see it in his eyes that he has grown. He left and came back a different man, one that has seen a lot more, has grown a lot more. He looks a bit taller, fills out his leather jacket (she licks her lips) a bit more.

Yet, he is still the same. He still radiates a warmth that envelopes her. He still smells that sweet, toxic smell. And, as she reaches out and caresses his cheek, he still _feels_ the same.

He stares into her eyes with an intensity that makes her want to melt into him then and there. He is still _her_ Tyler. For that, she is relieved. She almost smiles; _almost_.

Then her palm smacks his cheek.

He takes a step back, showing the surprise she felt at the hit. She kind of expects him to curse or yell at her, but none of that comes. Instead, he just rubs his jaw and exhales, looking at her like he is trying to fight back either a scowl or a smile. "I guess I deserved that."

"You sure as hell did." But she can't bring herself to sound angry with him, because she isn't. Not now, at least.

He nods and continues to rub his jaw. She thinks he must be overreacting because it couldn't have hurt _that_ badly; and then she remembers she's a vampire and it very well could have.

"Goddamn," she mutters, batting his hand away and grasping his neck, studying his cheek. Okay, it may or may not leave a bruise. For the sake of her guilt (and, let's be real, for his ego), she hopes that it doesn't. "I think you'll be alright. You might want to put ice on it or something."

"So you hit me and then are worried about me?"

She narrows her eyes. "Are you trying to get on my bad side?"

"Aren't I there already?"

He brings up a good point. "No." His eyebrows rise in obvious surprise. "_Yet._" He is still staring at her with the beginnings of a smirk. She smacks his shoulder.

"_Ow._ Cut that out!" he kind of hisses, curling away from her, but she yanks him back into place.

"No! That's what you get," she yells childishly. "How could you just leave town? Do you realize how selfish that was of you? And your mother—do you realize what a _wreck_ you've made her?"

He sighs, seeing right through her enraged façade, and places a calloused hand on her cheek. His touch makes her skin tingle and her body is trembling as she resists the urge to just close her eyes and throw herself at him and never, ever let go.

His thumb strokes her cheek softly, almost cautiously, and she realizes he is testing his boundaries.

(She also wonders, in the back of her mind, as to how far she'll let him back in right now.)

"I needed to get out of here. It was all just too much," he says softly. "But I didn't plan on leaving and never coming back."

"How can I believe you?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" He asks this as if it's explanation enough. She desperately wants it to be. She almost lets it be.

But she remembers what happened the last time she saw him and feels like she should be suspicious. "But for what reason? Why _did_ you come back? And don't say that it's—"

"_You_. You. It's all because of you." He takes her by surprise by sliding his hands around her waist and lifting her into the air, spinning her. She shouldn't be feeling as giddy as she actually does. As he sets her back down, he is holding her as close as physically possible and she lets him. He takes that as a good sign. "I couldn't just leave the girl I'm in love with, especially while she's mad with me."

Her breath catches. She's heard the words from Matt, but it never felt like this.

It takes all she has to try and remain strong. "So you just assumed that I was going to take you back like nothing happened?"

"No." He is so close that she can count every single one of his eyelashes; his breath is warm against her face. "You could have wanted to kill me and I still would've come after you."

It's probably the single sexiest and most romantic thing he could have said, and it does the trick. She knows that they can both feel her walls completely crumbling down but she could care less. That's the scary and kind of dangerous part.

"Don't ever do anything stupid like that again," she breathes.

He nods without hesitation, risking a smile at her. "Then is that a _no_?"

She looks at him. "You're going to have to beg and grovel to get my trust back. And the others will definitely need convincing."

"I'm not hearing a _no_."

She's never been more irritated with him than that moment, but as she parts her lips to voice this opinion, his lips are soft and warm and hungry against hers.

He is kissing her with such fervor it's almost animalistic, and _her_ instincts are kissing him back just as headily. He hums against her mouth and lifts her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. She shivers against his heat. Her hands part his unzipped jacket as they slide down his chest, dipping underneath his shirt and feeling his abs, relishing the groan she musters from him.

She feels herself being lowered as he lays her back flat against the kiddie slide, placing his knees on either sides of her waist to hover over her.

They part, breathless and gasping for air, and Caroline looks up at him with heavy eyelids. He is staring at her with this intense look of complete adoration shining in his eyes and it nearly scares her.

He dips his head and places a long, wet kiss against her collarbone. She shudders.

"God, you're perfect. I don't even deserve you," he murmurs against her skin. A hand slides up her figure and pushes her jacket and shirt, planting another wet kiss against her shoulder before showering every inch of skin with kisses. She whimpers, fisting his jacket and letting out a pleasured moan as his tongue finds her pulse and sucks it.

A tear slides down her cheek, which startles the both of them, and he pulls back. "I'm sorry. Did I—I did something wrong again, didn't I?"

She lets sits up a bit more, melding their lips together and locking her legs around his waist. When they part, she leans her forehead against his and cries a bit, a few more tears slipping down her cheek.

"How could you say that?" she whispers. He takes her chin in his hand and nudges her to look into his eyes. "You deserve me, Tyler," she says softly but fiercely. "I _know_ you do. So don't ever say stuff like that again or I'm going to lose it. Okay?"

"Okay."

He kisses her wet cheek and she lets out a sigh. She hasn't felt this content in a _long_ time and she can tell he hasn't, either.

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><p><strong>An.** _Song Inspiration: "By Your Side" by Tenth Avenue North_

I really, really, really hate Matt—a lot. And I really, really, really miss Tyler—_a lot_. That's why this was written.

(On a side not, is it just me or wouldn't Caroline be able to tell that the compulsion didn't work on Matt? I'm pretty sure a vampire would be able to tell. Well, that's just my opinion.)

_So you read it. Love it? Hate it? Please review it!_


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